Vocal Benefaction
by KneazleGriff
Summary: An avid search may result in the perfect Christmas gift, as long as those searching are willing to sacrifice, to give of themselves in the name of love. Sometimes, the search itself is worth more than the gift, especially when Harry and Severus are the ones searching. HPSS – a "Gift of the Magi" inspired tale
1. Chapter 1

**Vocal Benefaction**

**Summary: **An avid search may result in the perfect Christmas gift, as long as those searching are willing to sacrifice, to give of themselves in the name of love. Sometimes, the search itself is worth more than the gift, especially when Harry and Severus are the ones searching.

**Appreciation: **Special thanks to **YenGirl** for taking some time out of her busy schedule to help me with this story. Yen, your assistance is always so appreciated!

**Rating: **Rated T for language and mild slash

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to J.K. Rowling; Story inspired by "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry

**A/N: **This will be a three part story. Part Two will be posted early next week, then Part Three will follow the week after that... just in time for Christmas. I hope you enjoy Part One.

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**December 22nd**

"Honestly, Harry, I don't think you're going to be able to do this," Hermione huffed in exasperation.

"I've looked through at least a dozen of these textbooks and more than thirty of Poppy's healing manuals. The only reference I was able to find on a method to heal severed vocal chords was in that potion book I showed you last week, _Healing Potions Through The Ages_. And I told you then… there's no possible way even Severus would be able to brew that potion. It requires the blood of an African Chimera. Those creatures have been extinct for over three hundred years!"

"OK. Fine, Hermione, I get it. No potion. I suppose if it were as simple as brewing a potion, Severus would have healed his injury years ago," Harry admitted, albeit begrudgingly. "There must be another way, though! I mean… maybe… maybe we need to broaden our search a bit."

"Broaden our…?" Hermione voiced, eyes wide with disbelief. "Harry, we have been searching for over three weeks now. We've looked through at least three-quarters of the books in this library, including most of the ones in the Restricted Section, and we've only found that one reference!"

"We haven't looked in the Dark Arts reference books," Harry muttered. He was obstinately not looking at her, knowing the torrent of indignant fury she was sure to vent at his suggestion.

"What!? Harry! You know very well those books contain the most Dark… the most evil…"

"They contain the only spells and potions we haven't considered yet! Yes, these books are all about Dark Magic. I get that, OK? But if one of them happens to include a spell or another potion or _something_ that can cure Severus, then I'm willing to use it!" Harry insisted. He was on his feet now, his hands clenched into tight fists and his teeth grinding together in frustration.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. The intensity of her gaze seemed to penetrate his very soul, as if those warm, chestnut brown eyes had the ability to look right through him and decipher the motives behind Harry's passion for this latest fixation.

"Remind me again…" Hermione entreated, her voice softer now, more restrained, but fierce with intrigue, "why it is that you are so adamant about doing this for a man who pays you no regard… a man who doesn't even acknowledge you except once a month at our staff meetings when he hands you back your approved lessons plans with a terse nod of his head and a bitter scowl on his face?"

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, tempering breath. He wasn't angry with Hermione for her questions regarding his reasons for needing to do this nor for her stubbornness at wanting to avoid the Dark Arts at any cost. He was more furious with himself for never telling her, or anyone else for that matter, what he had been keeping quiet for years.

He was certain Hermione would be surprised – more than surprised, actually. She would probably fall over from shock! After all, he and Severus had a long history of loathing each other. The fact that they had grown to care for one another, after years of mutual enmity, was nothing short of unbelievable.

It had all started more than six years ago with a simple, silent exchange – just a letter – an ordinary correspondence born from Harry's acute need to express his gratitude. Despite Severus Snape's abhorrent treatment of him throughout the entirety of his school years, Harry recognized how much the man had done for him, how much he had sacrificed in order to always keep him safe. Severus had saved Harry's life again and again, risking everything to ensure his survival. Harry wasn't certain a simple letter would be a grand enough gesture to express his appreciation for all the man's efforts, but at the time, it seemed to be his only choice.

Harry had written that letter not long after Minerva hired him and Hermione to fill the roles of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Muggle Studies teacher respectively. That was shortly after the final battle, when Severus was still in a magically-induced coma, recovering from his near-fatal injuries. By the time Severus awoke, almost two months later, the ex-Death Eater had already been cleared by the Wizengamot for his actions during the war, in part due to Harry's vehement insistence that the man was on the side of the Light all along.

Midway through that first school term, Minerva did a bit of her own magic and was somehow able to convince the Board of Governors to reinstate Severus as Hogwarts' rightful Headmaster. It was a swift changeover, one that Minerva later admitted to Harry she was wholeheartedly glad for. She insisted that her talents lay in teaching Transfiguration to young minds, and not in debating with Ministry officials over political educational decrees and speaking with angry parents who refused to believe their son or daughter hadn't achieved the required OWLs needed to take NEWT-level Arithmancy.

Harry remembered wondering how Severus would be able to cope as Headmaster sans voice. Despite the man's inability to speak, however, he had implemented many ingenious means to communicate. He'd perfected a spell to enchant a special quill to write on parchment without him having to lift a finger, and another that would write illuminating letters that hung in midair with just a flick of his wand. That second spell had given Harry the creeps the first time he'd seen it, reminding him uncomfortably of the spell Tom Riddle had used to write his self-appointed moniker in the air while in the Chamber of Secrets during Harry's second year.

Whenever Severus needed to speak publicly, he opted for an altogether different method of communication. He would enlist the aid of a Hogwarts house-elf by the name of Loqui. Severus must have been able to forge a mind link with her, for she was able to speak his words for him with relative ease. Of course, he used her talents only when absolutely necessary; for his speech after the start-of-term feast and the occasional commentary during staff meetings.

Throughout that entire first year, Harry had held onto his letter. He supposed he was hoping he wouldn't have to deliver it at all, holding on to the possibility that perhaps Severus would come to him to make amends first. Unfortunately, the only acknowledgement he had received from the man that year was exactly what Hermione had just mentioned: a rather curt head nod and a fleeting expression of mild agitation.

It wasn't until late October of his second year teaching that Harry garnered the courage to send one of the school owls to Severus with his letter. Fewer than three hours later, he received a reply. Part of him had not even expected a response, yet Severus had written back and quickly.

Harry had held onto Severus' letter for the last five and half years. He still had it, neatly folded and tucked away in a keepsake chest at the bottom of a locked drawer of his desk. He had read and re-read the letter so often over the years, he knew every word by heart.

_Harry,_

_Your words have touched me, and as you might imagine, I am not easily affected, emotionally speaking. Thank you for your sincerity, your courage and your kindness. Although I have never told you so, and my actions have always indicated otherwise, I consider you to be one of the bravest men I have ever known. Your mother would have been extremely proud of you… as am I._

_I will ask that you kindly dispose of this letter. Burning it would be most appreciated. If it were known that I possess this amount of Hufflepuff sentiment, my reputation as being the most surly and forbidding Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts would surely be sullied. I do trust you'll remain taciturn regarding my 'softer side', or I will be forced to dock your pay (since docking points from Gryffindor is now improper… not that it ever affected you in the past)._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Severus_

_PS: I am partial to having a cup of tea in my office at half three every Sunday afternoon. You are welcome to join me this Sunday if you wish. My favorite magical creature is the phoenix._

Harry had met Severus in his office for tea that Sunday, and every Sunday thereafter. They spent many hours discussing the war. Harry told Severus about his months on the run with Ron and Hermione, stressing that the appearance of Severus' doe patronus and the Sword of Gryffindor had been pivotal in their mission to destroy the horcruxes and thanking him profusely for his covert assistance. Severus had disclosed, through his magically penned notations, all about his hardships as Voldemort's appointed _Headmaster of Doom_, as he liked to refer to it.

By the end of that year, that initial olive branch had developed into a close bond of friendship, close enough that Severus had suggested that they try to communicate via other means.

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_"What do you mean, Severus? How else could we communicate?"_

_"You've seen me communicate with Loqui, have you not? We could connect in a similar fashion. After all, we have shared a mind link in the past. I believe it would not be too difficult to re-establish that link and put it to another use," Severus wrote, his words dissolving rapidly into gold, shimmering mist as he lowered his wand. His mannerisms displayed a slight indifference, but Harry had known the man long enough now to know that his feigned apathy was a facade and that he truly wanted this._

_"The last time you entered my mind, you were a bit…"_

_"Harsh, yes. I recall," Severus wrote, then paused, seemingly at a loss as to what to write next. "I want you to know that I deeply regret my actions that year. I was cruel to you. I was bitter. I was angry and frustrated with your lack of understanding to the importance of our lessons. Regardless, I should not have taken out my frustrations on you. I am sorry, Harry. This will not be like last time. I…"_

_His words diminished during his protracted pause, Severus' wand hovering as he searched for his next words._

_Harry waited, a lump forming in his throat as emotions he had not thought himself capable of surfaced. They swirled and flourished in his clenching heart while swift moisture gathered in the corners of his brilliant green eyes._

_"It's different between us now," Severus finished. "I will not hurt you, Harry. I will be gentle. I swear it."_

_Harry nodded, then lowered his head and palmed away his emotional tears. After a moment, he lifted his head again and smiled._

_"OK. I'm in."_

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After more than a month of trial and error and numerous headaches both literal and figurative, they were successful in establishing a telepathic link. They had to be in very close physical proximity for it to work properly. Even sitting a few seats away from each other at the head table in the Great Hall was a big enough gap to hinder telepathic communication. Therefore, most of the time, they utilized their link only during their Sundays together, and ironically, when Severus would hand back Harry's approved lesson plans during staff meetings.

To the rest of the staff, these monthly exchanges may simply have looked like an overbearing Headmaster insisting on controlling every aspect of his most-detested professor's teaching style. In reality, it was just an excuse for Harry and Severus to be able to speak to each other through their mind link. Harry enjoyed these moments of secretive banter very much, despite their brevity.

That had all taken place over five years ago. Since then, his friendship with Severus had grown and strengthened, unbeknownst to the other Hogwarts teachers, including Hermione.

And this reminded him...

Dragging himself back to his present situation, Harry took a deep breath to consider his current dilemma. He realized Hermione was not about to let this go. Considering the fierce glare of blazing curiosity the inquisitive witch was currently giving him, he was pretty sure she would find out about his unexpected friendship with the Headmaster one way or another.

"Hermione," Harry began, his voice shaky and hesitant. He sat back down, ran his fingers through his unruly mop of raven hair, and soldiered on, resolved to explain the real reason behind his mission to find a cure for Severus.

"We're friends. Severus and I… we've grown quite close over the years."

There was a pause before Hermione broke out in surprised laughter, effectively breaking the mounting tension in the air. At first, Harry couldn't help but smile in shared amusement as he watched her chortle with unrestrained mirth. His grin was soon replaced by a frown, however, as a cold stab of indignant annoyance seemed to usurp his initial enjoyment.

"OK, Harry… Alright… that was a good one. Seriously. I think I needed that!" Hermione breathed out amid gasps of laughter.

"Hermione – I'm serious. Severus and I _are_ friends. I care about him very much. He means a lot to me. And I want this for him. I want him to have his voice back."

Harry kept his gaze on Hermione who stood there now looking very much like the stone gargoyle guarding Severus' office – her body rigid and her face completely blank.

"That's what I want to give him for Christmas this year. Over the last six years I've given him nothing but potion ingredients and books and I'm sick of not being able to give him the _one thing_ he needs the most! To be honest, I think I'm being a bit selfish here because the truth is that I want to hear that snarky voice again. I want to hear his sarcasm… the wit in his tone… the joy in his voice when he talks about the potions he's invented. The way we talk now… it's through a mind link... and it works, but it's not the same."

Harry took a deep breath and continued, his voice strong and sure.

"I want to be able to give him the one thing that's been taken from him. And I'll do whatever I can to restore his voice, Hermione. Whatever it takes. Even if that means dabbling in the Dark Arts!"

Hermione's eyes were as large as saucers. There was an expression on her face that Harry had never seen there before, a look equal parts shock and feverish introspection. It made her appear oddly vacant, like she'd just been kissed by a Dementor.

"Hermione? Are you… are you alri–"

"Y-y-you… you and the Headmaster? I mean… Snape? S-S-Severusnape?" she spluttered, her words slurring together into an almost comical utterance.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry answered, his annoyance with her swiftly fading now that shock had taken over her hilarity. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier that he and I had become friends. I'm not even certain why I didn't tell you. I guess I just–"

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, that odd, vacant look suddenly transforming into one Harry recognized from days of old: chuffed excitement. "Finally! My God, I thought you'd never figure it out! I mean, alright, I am a bit stunned that it took Severus Snape for you to realize that you're gay, but–"

"WHOA! Wait… WHAT?!"

At Harry's shocked outburst, the perplexed look that had adorned Hermione's face earlier slipped back into place, her euphoric grin morphing into an uninspired, straight line.

"Hermione, what the hell are you on about?" Harry questioned. His tone was strong, resonating a convincing attempt at confusion, but inside his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. Something gripped him, set off by Hermione's words still echoing in his mind.

They were true, of course. Well, partly. Harry had known he was gay for quite some time, ever since those days following the final battle when he and Ginny had given their severed relationship another go. The debacle that followed that second attempt made him realize with absolute certainty that his romantic dilemmas had nothing to do with the war, or even her, specifically. He remembered Ron mentioning that perhaps Ginny just wasn't his type. Truer words had never been spoken by his best friend.

But the one thing that had caused his mind to go into overdrive and his heart to race as though he were running a marathon, wasn't Hermione's obvious knowledge of his preferences. It was that he was now thinking about his preferences and Severus in the same breath, the same thought, the same moment. In all their time spent together – all their laughs, their long talks, their deep, meaningful conversations, albeit in silence – not once had he ever considered Severus in a romantic sense.

Hermione didn't bother to answer Harry, as if knowing she didn't need to...

In the reprieved silence, he contemplated _why_ he had never thought about Severus in that way. Was it because he had been his Potions Professor once? He was still a man, after all. A very talented, brilliant, courageous and powerful man. He was attractive too. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but he was tall and dark, with a nicely-toned body, elegant and sensitive fingers, long black hair that was soft, like silk. Well, not that Harry had actually touched it before, but it looked like it would be soft... if he were to touch it... if he were to run his fingers through it and...

Harry shook his head to clear it, cheeks growing hot. His thoughts were getting away from him. He needed to think. He needed to figure this out, because the truth was that... yes. Severus was an attractive man. But… but… that didn't mean… Why on earth would Hermione just _assume_…

"OK. I… yes… I am gay. I should have realized you and Ron would have figured that out at some point. But I've known that for years. It's got nothing to do with Severus! I told you… we're just friends," he insisted, "Oh, and thank you very much for outing me in the damn library."

Hermione was chuckling again, an infuriating, knowing giggle that Harry now found quite irritating.

"Oh, Harry! How can you be so accomplished and so intelligent, and yet so oblivious all at the same time? And for God's sake, Harry, it's Christmas break. There are only nine students in this entire school right now and I doubt very highly they're lurking in the library three days before Christmas."

"Oblivious? Well, isn't that a case of the pot calling the kettle black, Hermione? Until today, _you_ hadn't even _realized _I was seeing Sev… I mean, no, not seeing… Shit! I mean. Damn it, Hermione! We're just friends!"

"Yes. You've said that. A few times now," she drawled, her voice the epitome of calm, even as one corner of her mouth curved up into a complacent smirk. Not for the first time, Harry found her acuity unnerving.

They remained silent for a long time. Harry sat there, staring with unseeing eyes at a book he was quite certain he had discarded an hour ago for containing no useful information. His concentration on the task at hand was slipping. His thoughts were a blur of confusing emotions and contradicting ideas. Several times he threaded his fingers through his hair in nervous agitation while trying to make sense of this lingering inner-turmoil born from Hermione's exuberant commentary.

"Alright. I'll do it," Hermione said at last. "I'll help you look through the Dark Arts books. But if we find a book that elucidates a cure and _especially_ if said cure involves the use of a Dark spell, I'm out of it. OK? You're on your own."

Harry's anxious expression twisted into a genuine smile, all thoughts of his confused feelings about Severus temporarily forgotten.

"Great, Hermione! Thank you. Thank you so much. Wait here. I'll go get the books. We can take them back to my quarters so we can look through them in private."

Four hours and two bottles of elf-made wine later, they'd only gone through about half of the massive stack of ancient tomes and had yet to find anything pertaining to a spell that could reverse vocal chord damage. It wasn't until Harry offered to go down to the kitchens and get dinner for them did Hermione come across something of interest. He was halfway out the door to his quarters, when she called him back.

"Harry… I'm not certain, but… yes. This might be something."

"What?" Harry asked as he rushed back into the room. "What did you find? Is there a spell?"

"Well, no, not in _this_ book," she clarified as Harry plopped down on the settee beside her, his nose nearly touching the page of the book as he leaned over her shoulder for a closer look. "But there is a reference in here about _another book _that apparently has a chapter on illegal healing spells... spells that… oh, let me find it… here… spells that _evoke the potent powers of the Anguis. _And it goes on to describe these spells as being powerful enough to cure any physical ailment or injury."

"Powers of the Anguis? What the hell is that?"

"Oh for goodness sake, Harry. Anguis? Serpens? Colubra?"

At Harry's continued look of bewilderment, she heaved a huge sigh of annoyance and rolled her eyes, an exasperated look twisting her features.

"Really, you should know more Latin now that you're a Hogwarts professor… Snake, Harry! Snake! Anguis means snake in Latin. The spells referred to in this passage are obviously meant to be performed by a Parselmouth! And you _loathe_ speaking in Parseltongue, Harry! So not only will you be performing a Dark Spell, you'll also have to speak it using the language bestowed on you by Voldemort. You told me yourself how much you hate–"

"What's the name of the book? We may have it here among the others." Harry blurted out, interrupting her fervent warning and completely disregarding her stern words.

Yes, he despised his ability to speak Parseltongue, his last remaining link to the monster that had killed so many people dear to him. In fact, he was certain that this particular rare Slytherin talent would have died right along with the founder's heir, but for some reason it had remained. Despite his revulsion for it, Harry would use it if it meant Severus regaining the use of his voice.

"The book is entitled_ Sinuous Tenebris: The Power to Incite,"_ Hermione explained, her tone quite effective in conveying her disgust with what might be lurking within its pages.

Squatting on the floor and sorting through the lofty pile by flinging book after book onto the ground two at a time with feverish haste, Harry located the correct one at last, ignoring the potent glare from Hermione for treating the books so carelessly. He made quick work of rifling though its brittle pages, pausing only when his eyes settled upon a chapter entitled, _Unlawful Healing: Anguis Evocation for Physical Restoration_.

"This is it, Hermione. There are dozens of spells here. Wait... I think... Yes! Here. Look, this last one seems right."

He stood up and motioned for an irritated-looking Hermione, who already seemed more than eager to be through with this conversation, to come closer. She acquiesced, moving to stand next to Harry so that she could see which spell he had found. Her eyes widened after only a moment of reading and she snatched the book away from Harry before he'd even finished scanning the passage.

"Hermione! I was still reading that!"

She ignored him, her eyes frantically moving back and forth across the worn yellowed parchment. She turned a page. Then another.

"Hermione... may I have that back please?"

At long last, she looked up. Harry was astonished to see an exuberant grin stretched across her face where a scowl had been only moments before.

"What?" Harry asked, a little unnerved by her swift reversal of demeanor.

"Harry... do you know what this spell does?"

"Yes, Hermione, I'm the one who pointed it out you, if you recall. It repairs tissue damage, even those cases sited as irreversible. That's why I think this might actually be the right–"

"No... I mean, yes, of course, It does do that. You're right. It would definitely heal Severus' vocal chords, but it will also deplete your ability to speak Parseltongue... permanently!"

"What?!"

"Yes! Look, it states it right here...

_Ultimum Panacis Spell:_

_When spoken in the sacred language during the final brewing phase of an Excoriation Elixir, this spell will call upon the full force of the Anguis to heal. The mediocre strength of the Excoriation Elixir will be magically enhanced to heal any irreversible tissue, bone or physical impairment the drinker is afflicted with, but not without an extreme cost. The Parselmouth will permanently lose his or her ability to speak and understand the sacred language immediately following the casting of Ultimum Panacis, thus it is advised that this potent spell only be used in dire circumstances._

"And then it goes on to explain the proper wand movement and how to brew the Excoriation Elixir, which strangely enough, looks to be extremely simple..." Hermione explained, her tone sounding very similar to her teaching timbre.

"So... wait. What your saying is... if I cast this spell while brewing this... this Excoriation Elixir... I'll not only create a potion powerful enough to heal Severus, but I'll also be rid of this wretched language? Just by performing this spell?"

Hermione nodded, her smile beaming, "Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying."

"Holy shit!"

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: **My apologies to those of you who are anxiously awaiting my next chapter of **Gray Skye Mourning**. But don't worry! I haven't forgotten about it. It is coming along and will be posted in a few weeks' time.

**Please Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Vocal Benefaction**

**December 23rd**

"Harry coming for tea tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, Albus. As you very well know, he comes every Sunday," Severus wrote his words with a practiced flick of his wand, his agitation apparent despite the absence of vocal rancor. "Planning to spy on us again, are you?"

A hearty chuckle issued from the largest portrait behind the Headmaster's high backed chair, prompting its current occupant to slam his book down on the desk and turn around to counter the amused chortle with a venomous glower.

"Severus, my dear boy, I hardly have a choice in the matter! After all, I am essentially confined within the periphery of this rather magnificent gold frame."

Severus' glower, if possible, deepened as he once again, brandished his wand in rapid response, "Confined? Albus, you have two other portraits, one at the Ministry and one at Durmstrang – though I still don't know how you managed that – not to mention you are free to meander through the other Hogwarts' portraits to your heart's content! Please spare me your excuses for your persistent nosy behavior whenever Harry is here."

"Faulting an old man for simply being curious? Now, Severus, that isn't very charitable of you."

"You have known me long enough to know that I am not a charitable man," Severus wrote, his book lying forgotten atop his desk as his wand lashed through the air.

"Ah, yes, I do know this Severus," Albus conceded. "You are, more often than not, quite unpleasant to be around. This is true. Except when..."

Severus' wand was a blur of motion, the words drawn in mid-air with impressive speed, "Do NOT finish that statement, Albus!"

"...Except when Harry is here," the elderly wizard finished in complete disregard to Severus' vehement warning. "You are positively pleasant when the boy comes to visit. I wonder why that is."

"He is not a boy, Albus. He is a man now. You know this."

"Yes, yes. That he is. A very kind, brave and intelligent young man at that. Quite handsome too, don't you agree, Severus?"

"Albus... I'm warning you."

Another merry chuckle and then abrupt and blessed silence. Severus turned in his chair again to find the aged wizard fast asleep in his frame.

_Thank Merlin,_ Severus thought as he once again opened his book and renewed his previous efforts to scan its ancient pages. With only two days remaining until Christmas, he found himself running out of time to find the specific potion that would enable him to give Harry the perfect Christmas gift. He had yet to locate the correct potion, but his stark determination would not allow him to concede defeat.

He knew the instructions for said potion resided within one of his potion books. He remembered reading over its labor-intensive instructions not long after being hired as Hogwarts' Potions Master. The problem was, that was decades ago and Severus could not remember how this rare potion was brewed nor which ingredients it required. Not to mention his current plight; he had quite literally acquired hundreds of potion tomes over the years, and he had not a clue which one this particular potion was mentioned in.

Having reached the final page at last, with still not a single mention of the elusive potion, Severus shut the book with unnecessary force and hurled it across the room. He'd been at this for weeks, and his escalating frustration was getting the best of him.

Of course, Severus knew this level of effort was not necessary. Harry would be pleased with anything of the same caliber of his past yuletide offerings: a pair of dragonhide Quidditch gloves, various Defense manuals, a leather-bound monogrammed journal and one year, he'd even gifted him with a new brass cauldron, just for the fleeting look of utter repulsion adorning Harry's features when he had opened his present.

This Christmas, however, Severus was determined to give Harry the one thing he would never ask for, but desperately wanted... to be relieved of the lingering evil imprinted upon him over two decades ago in Godric's Hollow. He wanted to rid Harry of his ability to speak Parseltongue once and for all.

Severus remembered the very first time the subject was brought up. It was during their third Sunday visit together, back when they were still sharing tales of mutual hardships about the war. That was before they had developed their telepathic link and before Severus truly had an appreciation for the genuine purity of spirit that Harry possessed. He would never forget the gnawing ache in his own heart upon hearing the young man describe how much he loathed harboring the rare Slytherin talent.

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_"So you finally opened it by simply saying 'open' in Parseltongue?" Severus asked, his magically luminescent words of surprise suspended in the air for a moment before dissipating into sparkling mist. "Why on earth didn't you try that earlier? You had the damned horcrux for four months and in all that time it did not occur to you to speak to it in Parseltongue? Harry, it had Slytherin's mark on it. It was one of Slytherin's family heirlooms!"_

_"Yes, I realize that but... I don't know. I have a kind of mental block about speaking Parseltongue. I mean, my brain just doesn't readily go there, you know? It's HIS thing, not mine. And every time I've spoken the language, I've only ended up worse for the wear."_

_At Severus' persistent look of surprise and the slight raise of his eyebrows, Harry continued, his features holding a pinched expression, a mix of pain and disgust displayed in those vivid green eyes._

_"Look. I realize that it's come in handy. It was effective when I needed that locket to open. And it was certainly helpful when I needed to get down into the Chamber of Secrets during that whole nightmare in my second year, but I just feel so... tainted... when I speak it. Like I'm evil. Like there's this vile presence inside me that no matter what I do, will always be there. Even now, a year and half after the horcrux that used to reside within me has been destroyed, I still feel as though a part of him will never leave me."_

_Harry exhaled in frustration. "I just... I just want it gone. It's stupid, I know, but I hate that I still have it..."_

_It was a long moment before Severus replied, his wand moving slowly through the air. "No, Harry. It's not stupid. Not at all."_

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Severus let out a heavy sigh then with a quick flourish of his wand and a non-verbal _Accio_, he summoned the next potion book from his extensive library. With rekindled tenacity, he opened the book and began to scan its pages with vigor.

"Severus, may I ask what it is you are so fervently searching for?"

Another resounding thud split the room's previous tranquility as Severus slammed his second book down onto the desk. He turned to see Albus awake once again, cerulean blue eyes twinkling with mad elation and a simper of impish insight curving his lips.

"Albus, I have already told you, I am researching a potion! In addition, I distinctly recall informing you that I require peace and quiet in order to accomplish my task!" Severus wrote, his ire apparent in the abrupt and clipped motions of his arm as it slashed through the air.

"Then allow me to rid my query of all its pretext, my dear boy; get right to the point, as they say. I realize you are researching a potion. What I am really asking is why you are doing so with such panicked haste, with total disregard to anything else. It is nearly seven o'clock in the evening. You haven't eaten anything today, nor have you left this office," Albus explained. His gleaming twinkle was suddenly dull and there was a look of concerned regard on his lined countenance.

Severus let out another encumbered breath, realizing that, once again, the former Headmaster had succeeded in getting to him. He always could, after all.

"I am attempting to locate a potion that would strip Harry of his ability to speak Parseltongue," he wrote, his movements less harried now, more deliberate and calm.

"Ah, I see. And am I to assume that this will be your Christmas gift to him? Freedom from the last remaining vestiges of Tom's influence?"

"Yes, but I am unable to find the correct book! I know it is in one of these damned–"

"_A Slytherin's Guide To Potions: Refurbished Edition, Volume Two_, I believe. Top shelf, to the left."

Albus' quick elucidation effectively cut off Severus' frustrated inscription. The ebony wand was still held aloft, suspended in mid-air as its caster sat back in his chair, frozen in shock. As soon as Severus' muddled mind processed this new information, he shot up from his chair and bounded over to his towering bookshelf, his wand held high and another _Accio_ articulated clearly in his mind.

Another minute passed by in silence as Severus rifled through the pages of the ancient text at a quick pace, his dark, eager eyes darting back and forth across the senescent pages. An uncommon smile curved his lips as those obsidian orbs fell upon that which he was searching for, but it lingered for a mere second, soon replaced by an expression of utter misery.

"What is it, my boy? Was I incorrect?" Albus asked. "A rare occurrence, but it has happened before."

"No, Albus. You were correct. This is the book, except…"

Severus stopped spelling his words, his wand lowering.

"You know you may speak to me telepathically, Severus. I am not certain why you insist on–"

Severus' wand was lifted again, words issuing from it like swiftly spun gold, "I have NO desire to establish a mind link with you, Albus! That is an incredibly personal… extremely intimate…"

"Yet you communicate this way with Harry, and have been doing so for years now," interjected Albus.

Silence permeated the office once again as Severus decided against a reply. He returned to his high backed chair and collapsed into it, the book still gripped in his left hand. After several minutes, he raised his wand again in further explanation of his earlier disquiet.

"The potion requires three spells to be cast during an extremely intricate phase of the brewing process. The spells are essential; without them, the potion will not yield the proper results."

"I hardly think that would pose a problem, Severus. You are quite competent with non-verbal spells now, and you're certainly well-practiced in preparing complicated–"

"The spells must be cast verbally, Albus. Verbally."

"Oh dear."

Severus released his vice-like grip on his wand and the potion book, letting both of them fall onto his desk as he brought his hands up to his face. Pressing the heels of both hands hard into his eyes, he ran his long fingers through the lank, ebony strands of hair that fell across his face, his fingernails scraping along his scalp as he grappled with this seemingly insurmountable hindrance.

_How the hell am I going to accomplish this? With no voice, I cannot manage to brew this potion. But I want this for him… I want to give him this..._

"Perhaps Horace could aid you?" came the tentative voice of Albus, his voice milder now, a touch of benevolent placation to his tone.

"Horace could, yes. However, he is on holiday in Switzerland until the new term begins. I suppose, I'll just have him assist me when he returns," Severus wrote.

"Or…" Albus continued, "You could simply repair the damage to your vocal chords so that you are able to brew this potion yourself, then you could give it to Harry in time for Christmas."

"I have already told you, Albus," Severus wrote, his gesticulations gruff again. "There are no viable methods to repair the damage to my vocal chords! I have thoroughly researched–"

"You have done some research, yes. I think we both know that it was not thorough, nor was there any passion fueling your search. In fact, I would go so far as to say that, in stark contrast to your zealous search for this potion for Harry, your efforts in that area were woefully lame."

Albus waited until those ebony eyes met his own, then continued.

"My dear boy, you have been hiding behind your muteness."

"I have NOT!"

"You found the correct healing potion not a month after waking from your coma, yet you rashly dismissed it as impossible to brew."

"Albus, it IS impossible to brew. For God's sake, old man, it calls for the blood of an African Chimera! They've been extinct for centuries!"

"You know very well that Horace is in possession of an impressive and vast collection of extremely elusive potion ingredients, yet you stubbornly refuse to inquire–"

"ENOUGH!" Severus brandished his wand in a fit of fury, silencing the elderly wizard.

One long, protracted moment turned into several. The circular office remained barren of any sound, save the feigned snores issuing from the surrounding portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses, apparently snoozing blissfully in their frames. Albus resisted being one them, his eyes still fixed on the man he had always considered to be as good as a son.

At length, Severus' wand once again drew words in the stagnant air with slow deliberation.

"I am not worthy of a cure, Albus. A lifetime of taciturnity is my penance; punishment for all the wrongs I have done… for the pain I have caused… for the lives I have wrecked…"

"Oh, Severus. My dear child. You mustn't think this way. You should concentrate on those lives that you've influenced positively… those individuals who've been touched by your rather guarded heart. They most certainly do not regard your muteness as retribution for your past sins."

"And who do you imagine these fictitious individuals to be, Albus? There is no one in my life who could possibly regard me as anything more than an Ex-Death Eater, a man who at one time swore his allegiance to a madman."

"I do not regard you that way. Nor does Harry. You know this, Severus. In your heart, you know this. Stop punishing yourself. For once, Severus, listen to your heart and not that obstinate, self-deprecating voice inside your own head."

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It was just after two in the morning when Severus found himself sitting on the cold stone dungeon floor of Horace's personal potion storeroom, rummaging through jar after dusty jar filled with the rarest potion ingredients he had ever seen in one place. With so many valuable substances splayed out in front of him, he was finding it difficult to keep his mind fixed on his search. It was almost enough to make him want to teach potions to the mindless droves of Hogwarts students again.

_Almost,_ Severus emphasized, as he picked up yet another filthy, film-covered jar.

_Oh my God… this is it! _

Severus quickly cast a non-verbal _Lumos_ and held the grimy jar up to the wand light, blowing the excess dust off so that he could further examine the inscription on the aged label.

_African Chimera Blood (8 fl. oz.)_

_Species: Rooi Draak, male, approx. age: 22 years_

_Origin: Southern Namibia_

_Date Collected: May, 1672_

Severus stared at the elusive ingredient in his hand, feeling an icy cold wave of dread washing over him. He was extremely apprehensive about regaining the use of his voice again. Even with Albus' insistence that he was indeed deserving of such a symbolic exoneration, he remained convinced otherwise.

Regardless, Severus found that he had been greatly affected by the former Headmaster's sentimental advice. He had spent the remainder of the evening picking at his dinner and weighing his choices, his mind fraught with doubt and hesitation. At midnight, after hours of exhausting rumination which brought him no closer to a solution to his quandary, he had finally had enough and had crawled into bed, resigned to reflect on it further in the morning.

His attempts to sleep, however, were futile. He had spent the next two hours lying awake in his bed, eyes wide open and body tense with sleep resistance while Albus' infuriating words of counsel echoed over and over again inside his burdened mind.

_Listen to your heart…_

After many failed attempts to ignore Albus' overly exuberant words swirling around his head, Severus gave in to them at last and, not long after, found himself in his current situation: sitting on the ice-cold dungeon floor in the middle of the night holding the key to his absolution…

…_and_, he reminded himself, the key to freeing Harry from Voldemort's unwelcome gift.

Severus had no idea when it had happened. He hadn't a clue when achieving this task for Harry had become the single, most important thing to him – even more important than upholding his own stubborn resolve to endure his self-proclaimed penance – but it had. It _had_ become that important to him.

_Harry_ had become that important to him.

His decision made, Severus stuffed the jar of chimera blood into the pocket of his robes, got up from the dusty floor and began the long walk back to his quarters. For once, he would follow Albus' advice. He would go through with it. He would brew this potion and restore his voice so that he would be able to proceed with his plan to rid Harry of this lingering Dark force.

He _would_ listen to his heart… for Harry.

Anything for Harry.

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: **Well, two parts down... one to go. Look for the third and final chapter to be posted early next week, just before Christmas. I hope you're all enjoying it! :)

**Please Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Vocal Benefaction**

**December 24th**

"Damnit, Hermione! I'm trying, OK? But you know I'm pants at potions!"

"Well, then listen to me for once! If you add the powdered bicorn horn to the cauldron now, with the flame that high, you'll ruin it. This is already your third attempt, Harry, and if you want this done in time for your visit with Severus this afternoon, you're going to have to pay attention to what you're doing!" Hermione scolded.

It was half past seven, Christmas Eve morning. Harry and Hermione were in the former's office, hovering over his desk which had been divested of its usual clutter in the interest of becoming a makeshift potions lab. Hermione had suggested that he brew the potion in the students' potion lab in the dungeons, but Harry had refused. He knew the Headmaster frequented the lab on weekends, and he didn't want to risk being caught.

As Hermione so graciously reminded him, this was his third attempt at brewing the Excoriation Elixir. The first was a complete failure. Harry had forgotten to add the Flobberworm Mucous _before_ the Knotgrass, a step that the instructions had clearly stated was essential. Upon realizing his mistake, he added it as an afterthought. The resultant explosion was more impressive than the ones Neville used to produce back in first year. Fortunately, Harry's quick reflexes enabled him to produce a shield charm large enough to encompass both he and Hermione so that neither of them were injured. The cauldron, however, was not so lucky. Harry spent the next thirty minutes spelling the melted pewter off his desk.

It took him another twenty minutes to locate his second cauldron, a large brass one Severus had bought him for Christmas four years ago. It was a clever gag gift, one that had caused both of them to double over with laughter, but Harry was certain the man had never imagined it would be put to good use. After littering his office floor with almost the entire contents of his storage cabinet, he found the elusive object at the very bottom of the massive pile of junk, wedged between on old broom servicing kit Hermione had given him ages ago and ironically, a self-help book on how to de-clutter your workspace, the latter prompting an impish snicker from her.

Harry's second attempt to brew the potion went much smoother, until he added the second to last ingredient: minced dandelion roots. In his impatient haste, he had thrown the roots in without so much as running his knife through them. No explosion this time, but the foul smell that issued from the cauldron following his error was enough to send both of them running out into the hall with their hands covering their noses, Hermione trying hard not to retch in her hand.

Throughout the duration of this latest trial, she stayed close by his side, commenting on every step and harping on him as if he were an incompetent schoolboy. As irritating as this was, Harry knew it was necessary. He couldn't blow this. This potion was too important to him.

_Severus_ was too important to him.

"Alright, Hermione. I lowered the flame. Is it safe to add the bicorn horn yet?"

"Y-y-yes, yes… it's good now."

As soon as the fine powder hit the simmering liquid, its pale aqua color turned to a brilliant shade of emerald green, a thin sheen of opalescence dancing on its surface.

"Perfect!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry sagged in relief, feeling the tight knot inside his chest starting to loosen. He looked over at Hermione and couldn't help but smile when he noticed her ecstatic grin. For someone who was originally opposed to the idea of utilizing the Dark Arts for any means, she now showed a surprising amount of delight in their success. Although, Harry reminded himself, the Excoriation Elixir alone was not Dark; it was the Anguis spell he had yet to cast that was worthy of that iniquitous distinction.

"Well, here goes nothing," he announced. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, raised his phoenix wand over the bubbling virescent liquid then hissed the required sibilation.

_"Haarrrussth Ssshayhetha"_

At once, the room was suffused with an eerie green glow, forcing both of them to squeeze their eyes shut to block out the dazzling light. When Harry opened his eyes and glanced down into the cauldron, he saw that the liquid had changed once more. The color was darker now, more of a greenish-black, and its iridescent luster had vanished.

"I did it! Hermione… I did it!"

Harry turned to look at her, expecting to see another beaming smile. He was startled to notice an expression of mild concern on her face instead.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Do you… do you feel alright, Harry?"

"Huh? Yeah… I feel great, actually. Why wouldn't I?" he asked, confused by her sudden consternation.

"Well, the book seemed to imply that this might take a lot out of you. I mean, it's supposed to take a good bit of power to cast that spell, Harry. It must, in order to strip you of your ability to speak Parseltongue."

"Oh, shit! I completely forgot about that!"

"What? How could you forget–?"

"_Excuse me_, Hermione, but I was concentrating on my _real_ reason for doing this! To cure Severus! That's what's most important to me!" Harry snapped, then felt badly for it. "Sorry. I shouldn't have barked at you like that. I… I honestly don't know why I've been so edgy lately. I've just been so focused on doing this for him, that I haven't been able to think clearly about anything else. God, I haven't been this tense and distracted since the war!"

"Harry… do two things for me, alright?" Hermione interrupted his rant, reaching over to grab both of his hands. She laced their fingers together and pulled him closer to her, gripping his hands tightly. "First, say something in Parseltongue."

Harry honored her request. Not long after, his office was filled with the sounds of Hermione's hysterical laughter as his attempt to speak the sacred language of the Anguis came out sounding more like the rapid leak of air from a released balloon than the hissing of a snake. Even he, who at one time couldn't distinguish English from Parseltongue, could tell the difference.

"It's gone! I can't believe it's really gone!" He stared at her, wide eyed in wonder.

With her eyes sparkling with mirthful tears, Hermione threw her arms around him in an instant, pulling him into a warm embrace. Harry returned her hug in earnest, feeling immensely grateful that she was here for him. She was _always_ here for him – Dark Arts or not. Being married to Ron had not changed that one bit.

When they finally broke apart, he could see the emergence of new tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffed and gave a sheepish giggle while she wiped them away with the sleeve of her jumper.

Harry leaned back on the corner of his desk, then remembered that she had yet to finish her request of him.

"Hermione? What was the second thing?"

"Huh?"

"You said _Harry... do two things for me_. Well, what was the second?"

She smiled. It was a playful grin, full of mischief and crafty astuteness. Harry narrowed his eyes, watching as she attempted to curtail her wily demeanor. After a moment, she cleared her throat, as if preparing to give a speech of great import, then completed her earlier plea.

"Tell him how you feel."

"What? Hermione! I told you... we're just–"

"Friends. Yes, I know. Harry, do you remember how frantic I was last year when Ron was injured during that Auror raid? Remember how edgy, how unfocused, how completely consumed I was about it? How I couldn't even _think_ about anything else but his recovery? All I could do was try to think up ways to help him heal faster... anything to make him feel better... to ease his pain."

Harry swallowed hard, sudden weakness assailing him. He knew exactly where she was going with this analogy and with each word she spoke, his heartbeat quickened. When she paused and looked at him, he nodded, feeling his throat tighten and constrict from some unknown emotion that seemed to be lodged there.

"Harry... I was acting like that because I love Ron. I love him with all my heart. And when he's hurting or suffering, I can't even think straight. When he's in need of me, I go to him without thought or debate. When I am with him, Harry, I am happy. Truly happy. Happier than I could ever put into words for you. And if he lost his voice because some giant snake attacked him, and the only way I could help him get his voice back would be to cast a Dark Spell... I would do it. In a heartbeat."

Harry tried to tell her he understood, that her words had reached him, but he suddenly felt as mute as Severus, his every attempt to speak failing before his voice could manage a sound.

"So tell him, Harry. Tell him how you feel."

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Severus, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Albus," Severus wrote.

"Nothing? You've done _nothing_ these last twenty minutes but stare at that potion vial. Forgive me, my dear boy, but it is rather obvious that something is troubling you."

Severus sighed deeply, then turned in his chair to face the elaborate gold frame and its intrusive occupant, resigned to deal with this sooner rather than later.

"This is the potion that will repair the damage to my vocal chords, a remarkably easy one to brew once I located the Chimera Blood. I am resigned to take it... because it is the only way I am able to complete Harry's potion," he wrote, then paused to consider his next words. He winced when he noticed the faint tremble to the fingers gripping his wand.

"I am only hesitating because I am attempting to decide whether I should reveal this impending development, or whether I should keep it to myself."

Albus remained quiet, eyes lowered as one long-fingered hand came up to stroke his beard. After a moment of deliberation, he lifted his gaze, pinning Severus with a penetrating look.

"Severus, please listen to me. I know what it is that you fear, child, and I understand that fear."

"You do NOT! How could you?" Severus wrote brusquely, his features twisted in an angry scowl as his wand sliced through the air.

"You're worried that when you speak, Harry will not hear _you_, but rather _Professor Snape_... the man who belittled him and taunted him at every opportunity... the man who wounded him with words sharper than any blade. You're terrified that the return of your voice might mean the loss of the man you love."

Severus jumped up from his chair so fast that it toppled over and fell to the floor with a resounding crash. Forgetting himself completely, so consumed with rage at the old man for this latest presumption, he opened his mouth to scream, to argue, but nothing came out but a swift exhalation. Dark eyes blazing with vexation, his heart pounding in his chest, Severus snatched the vial off his desk, pulled off the stopper with trembling fingers then swallowed its contents in one gulp.

Immediately, he felt a searing pain in his throat and dropped the empty vial. Wrapping his hands around his neck to try and ease the stabbing ache, Severus swallowed, then coughed when he felt the presence of a warm, viscous liquid coating his larynx. _Blood_, he thought. Again he gagged and coughed, then stumbled to his desk to pull out a handkerchief from one of his drawers. He wiped the gathering wetness from his lips and glanced down to see the brilliant smear of crimson streaked across the white fabric.

"Severus! Are you alright? Should I visit one of the portraits in the Hospital Wing and summon Poppy?"

"No..." came a hoarse whisper, faint, barely audible, but absolutely and gloriously vocal.

Severus blinked at Albus, stunned at hearing his own voice after six years of forced reticence.

"I... I... can... speak..." he rasped, his throat burning with each word spoken. The pain was intense, but he could not help the uncharacteristic smile that stretched across his face. He looked up to see a similar grin of contentment adorning Albus' visage.

"I might suggest letting Poppy examine your throat," Albus said when Severus once again wiped the excess blood from his lips.

"No, Albus. I'll be fine," he answered, wincing from the pain. "Besides, I have another potion to prepare."

He was halfway out the door when the elderly wizard called out to him, "Severus!"

Turning, Severus took a few steps back into his office, awaiting what was sure to be another irksome, life-altering directive.

"Don't keep this development from Harry, Severus. His feelings for you will not change simply because you are no longer mute."

"You... you cannot know that for certain."

"I _do_ know that, Severus. I do. I have watched the two of you for the last six years. I have seen you both learn to trust each other and find joy in each other's companionship and friendship. And I've witnessed that friendship deepen into something much stronger, much more meaningful."

He paused to fix the current Headmaster with an all knowing look, the twinkle in those wily, blue eyes aglow with delight.

"Severus, you're in love with Harry."

"Albus!"

"And _he_ loves you."

"ALBUS! Damnit, old man... it hurts to yell."

"Then don't, my boy."

With that, Albus' wide grin softened and his twinkling blue eyes vanished under heavily lined lids, the soft sounds of deep breathing and muffled snores permeating the room as the former Headmaster fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

A knock at the door to his personal quarters startled Severus. His eyes snapped up to the clock on his mantel, hardly believing that it was after three already.

He had spent the last two hours feverishly cleaning his quarters and decorating the small Fraser Fir that Hagrid had dropped off just after noon. Severus did not own any ornaments, and his attempt to transfigure several empty potion vials into multi-colored baubles resulted in the entire tree looking like a cheap, plastic, dime store tree covered in gimcracks. Swallowing his pride, he had borrowed some ornaments from Minerva, relieved that they weren't all tartan-trimmed.

After that, he'd spent an extra long time in the shower. He told himself that it was necessary for the hot water to relax his sore neck muscles. The intense burning he had experienced in his throat earlier that morning had all but disappeared now, but the muscles surrounding his voice box were very tender after suddenly being utilized following so many years of dormancy.

Deep down, however, Severus knew that the _real_ reason he had opted for a prolonged shower was so that he could tend to his hair. Harry's potion was immensely complicated and took Severus all morning to complete. It had also given off a copious amount of putrid-smelling fumes midway through the first phase of brewing, and Severus was certain his hair had retained the foul scent.

Another knock, then a hesitant voice called out, "Severus? May I come in?"

With a cursory flick of his ebony wand, Severus spelled the door open, smiling as Harry greeted him with wide green eyes that immediately focused on the Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room.

"Wow, Severus! That looks great! I didn't realize you were… um… into decorating for Christmas."

Severus approached Harry, his right hand reaching out to touch Harry's arm. After pushing up the sleeve of his jumper enough to encircle the wrist with his slender fingers, he answered Harry through their mind link.

_"I don't usually decorate. I suppose I thought I'd do something… different this year. Thank you for meeting me here instead of my office."_

_"Sure. No problem," _Harry answered, his eyes seeking those dark orbs as he replied, gently coaxing his words deeper into Severus' mind through their open connection._ "Albus giving you fits again?"_

_"Yes. The old man is worse than ever. His death has done nothing to inhibit his propensity for interfering in other people's lives," _Severus answered, his lips curving into a slight smile._ "Why don't you go sit on the settee, Harry. I'll join you in a just a few minutes with our tea."_

He removed his hand from Harry's arm, fingers brushing against the warm, sensitive skin of Harry's inner wrist as they withdrew. Severus decided that he would miss their cerebral interaction very much. Early on, he and Harry had determined that physical touch enhanced their connection, making it easier to communicate through their channel. Severus suspected that touch was no longer needed, as their connection had become very strong over the years. He was fairly certain Harry was aware of this too, but neither one of them seemed willing to forego that step.

It was a cause for hope, even if he didn't want to admit it as such.

After entering his kitchen and putting on some water for tea, Severus took a deep breath to calm his escalating apprehension. He was not nervous about giving Harry his gift. No, he was quite eager to see the joy in the young man's eyes when he realized that he would no longer be condemned to speak the language of Slytherin's heir.

What terrified him was the very idea of telling Harry that he had been cured, that he could once again use his voice, a voice that had always been Severus' most effective and compelling tool to unfairly deflect his own emotional pain and bitterness onto others. This was the very same voice that had insisted with cold, biting precision that Harry was just like his arrogant, bullying father; a voice that had announced to everyone within earshot that Harry Potter was nothing but an impudent, lazy, disrespectful brat.

Severus was sickened by his past actions. Thinking about them made his heart ache with regret. He was ashamed of every vicious word that he had ever uttered about Harry, every awful, untrue label he had attached to him.

Yet somehow, Harry had been able to see past all that and forgive Severus. He'd told him this more than once, insisting that Severus' cruel treatment of him didn't matter to him anymore, that he only cared about their current friendship. But would he be so forgiving if he were to hear that cold voice again? Would he be able to get past the memory of all the pain inflicted by that sharp, ruthless tongue? Would Harry recoil and withdraw from him when that very same voice was used to form the words their owner so longed to say to him?

This was the real reason Severus had resisted a cure for so long, why his attempts to find it – as Albus had said – were only ever half-hearted. That meddlesome old man was once again spot on with his assumption, blast him!

"Severus?!" Harry called from the sitting room, yanking him from his distressing rumination.

Severus shook his head to clear it, then looked down to see his tea kettle rapidly boiling over, the whistle blaring. With a flick of his wand, he levitated it from the flame and dropped it into the sink.

"Here, let me help you…" Harry urged. He had rushed into the kitchen, his wand pointed at the still bubbling liquid in the sink. _"Rigentibus!" _he exclaimed. At once, the scalding water cooled and the angry boil abated.

Severus felt rather foolish as he raised his own wand and non-verbally cast a cleaning charm to rid his kitchen of the spilt water. Harry helped, casting a drying charm to aid in the process.

Severus started when he felt Harry's fingertips brushing against the palm of his left hand.

_"What's wrong, Severus? You're not usually so… distracted."_

He turned toward Harry, seeing the glint of concern in those vivid emerald eyes. Severus' fingers closed around Harry's caressing hand, his thumb sweeping along the skin on the back of his hand as he answered.

_"I suppose I'm just a bit anxious to give you your Christmas present,"_ he replied, forcing back his unease and gifting Harry with a small smile.

_"Brilliant! I'm excited to give you yours too," _Harry responded._ "Come on… let's go into the sitting room and get to it, then. I'm not really in the mood for tea anyway."_

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as he led Severus back to the sitting room. He was becoming more and more eager with each passing second. His excitement was so acute that by the time they sat down on the same leather settee and turned to face one another, he could scarcely breathe.

_"I would like to give you your gift first, if that is alright with you," _Severus announced.

_"What? No… I was hoping I could give you my present first!" _Harry countered, feeling a bit mortified upon realizing his response made him sound like an impatient child.

Severus gave him an amused grin, then spoke once again through their link, _"Perhaps we can compromise. Shall we open them at the same time?"_

Harry nodded, swallowing hard. He was so nervous now that he was not quite able to return Severus' smile as he passed his neatly wrapped package to him with hands that shook a little and accepted Severus' equally well-decorated offering.

Excitement flooded Harry. This was the moment he had been waiting for, when he would finally be able to hear Severus' voice again. Once more, he found himself unable to take a decent breath, let alone still his quivering fingers as they attempted to untie the bright red bow and tear off the gold paper. His eyes kept darting over to Severus as the older man unwrapped Harry's gift with deliberate precision.

As soon as Harry opened his own though, he was distracted by its contents. He peered into the box and noticed a potion vial very similar to the one he'd filled with Severus' potion just hours ago. This potion looked different though. It was a deep, rich burgundy color, almost the color of blood.

Picking up the vial, Harry turned it over in his hand several times, studying its thickness and the way it coated the insides of the glass, trying to decipher exactly what potion Severus had made for him.

_"It's a Lingua Remotionem Potion, Harry,"_ Severus explained. _"It will cure you of your ability to speak Parseltongue."_

Harry stared at the dark red vial clutched in his hand, sudden weakness assailing him. He looked up, seeking out that dark gaze. His breath caught in his throat and his heart seemed to flood with a torrent of emotions as those ebony eyes, so filled with affection, locked with his own.

_"Oh… Oh my God! Severus, I…"_

Harry couldn't say another word, even telepathically. He was so overwhelmed, so moved by Severus' gift. In the back of his mind it registered to him that, of course, the potion was not actually needed since he had rid himself of the cursed language earlier this morning, but he didn't care. This was the most thoughtful, the most incredible, the most heartfelt gift anyone had ever given him.

Overcome with emotion, Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck and pulled him close. His eyes fluttered shut and his heartbeat quickened when Severus tightened their embrace, those long, lean arms encircling his back, gripping him, holding him flush against his own body for the very first time.

"Thank you… so much," Harry whispered into Severus' ear, lips brushing the warm skin. "Severus… I… "

He pulled away and their eyes met again. His breath hitched as he looked into those dark, cavernous depths. There was an intense, blazing look in them now that Harry had never seen before, and he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away. His own emotions stirred restlessly inside him, impatient, yearning to be acknowledged. His whole body shook with the effort to hold them in.

_Hermione's right. Oh God… I love him. I love him so much._

So lost in the intensity of his own emotions, Harry hadn't even realized there were tears falling from his eyes until Severus began to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned into the soft touch, his eyes slowly closing again as he concentrated on the exquisite feel of those gentle fingers that were now lingering, caressing his cheeks with slow, tentative touches. He could feel his own shuddering breaths mingling with Severus' and he opened his eyes… suddenly remembering…

_"Severus, you haven't opened your gift yet," _Harry said, speaking his words through their link again. He closed his hands over Severus' wrists and lowered them, wrapping those long fingers around his partially opened package.

Harry watched Severus remove the lid to the box with bated breath, his heart thundering against his rib cage in anticipation. Those elegant fingers closed around the small glass vial and raised it, dark eyes narrowing in deliberation as their owner studied the elusive contents.

_"What is this?"_ Severus asked, his face displaying a rare expression of bafflement.

"It's a magically enhanced Excoriation Elixir," Harry answered, deliberately using his voice this time in the hopes that Severus would soon be doing the same.

_"Magically enhanced? I don't understand…"_

"I found a book about Anguis Magic. The book included information about a spell, called the Ultimum Panacis Spell, that when cast during the final brewing stage of an Excoriation Elixir, would strengthen the potion…. so much that the potion would be powerful enough to cure any physical ailment."

Severus' ebony eyes widened, swift moisture gathering at their corners as he continued to stare at Harry.

"I had to use Parseltongue to cast the spell, and when I did, the intensity of the spell actually destroyed my ability to speak Parseltongue… permanently. I'm… sorry, Severus… I know that kind of ruins your gift. But it worked! It worked, Severus! This potion will heal your vocal chords. You'll be able to speak again!"

_"You… you would actually… want… to hear my voice again? You wouldn't be… repulsed?" _Severus asked, and even through the link, Harry could sense the deep anxiety and absolute fear behind his questions.

"Repulsed?! Severus… how could you ever think…?"

_"My voice was used to say terrible, hateful things to you, Harry. I've wielded it like a weapon with the sole purpose of causing you pain and humiliation. So many cruel, cutting words… so many unforgivable comments… I… I cannot fathom why you would ever want to hear it again."_

"But Severus, that's exactly why I _do_ want to hear your voice again! I want to hear your voice _now_… now that all that hate and anger and misunderstanding is behind us... now that you've become so important to me. And I don't just _want_ to hear you, Severus, I _need_ to hear you! I _need_ to hear you say my name, 'Harry'. I've never heard you call me that before. I want that so badly. And I want to hear what you'll say when I finally tell you… when I tell you how much I… how much I love you."

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At Harry's words, Severus drew in a sharp breath. He stared at Harry, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing, barely able to breathe when he realized all his worries and fears were unfounded. Harry _did_ want to hear his voice again... and... and better yet, he loved him...

It was as though an eruption of pent up longing and ache surged through his entire body. With his heart pounding away and his body trembling, he looked even deeper into those shimmering pools of green, seeking truth, needing assurance. The intense look of raw, undisguised yearning and hope and adoration he found within their depths rendered him breathless once again. Without any further thought or reflection, without needing to analyze or consider, Severus knew without a doubt that he could no longer hold back the love he'd kept hidden and locked away inside his heart for so long.

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Harry only had a split second to be stunned by his own daring before Severus' arms were around him again. He felt as though his heart was soaring as those arms tightened their embrace once more, holding him impossibly close. New tears gathered in the corners of Harry's eyes, but he paid them no mind when he felt the gentle caress of soft lips brushing against his jaw, then across the damp skin of one cheek. When those soft lips reached Harry's own, they lingered there, hovering just above them, barely touching his skin while warm, shaky breaths ghosted over his parted lips.

Harry opened his eyes, needing to see those soulful depths, wanting some visual confirmation that this was really happening, that this wasn't just a dream or a figment of his imagination. After a moment, he closed them again and edged forward, pressing his trembling lips to Severus' at long last.

It was like an explosion of mind and body.

Harry could barely breathe when those lips touched his own. His heart hammered madly, or maybe it was Severus'; he couldn't be sure. He was just so lost…. lost in the exquisite feeling of Severus holding him… touching him… kissing him.

Severus pushed forward, deepening their kiss, devouring Harry with voracious lips, and a strong, eager tongue that plunged into his mouth with passionate vigor. That tongue explored every recess of Harry's willing mouth, sliding alongside his own tongue and swirling around it. Severus' hands clutched the sides of Harry's face, keeping him pressed firmly to him while he continued to ravage him with an insatiable intensity.

Harry's whole body shook and pulsed with need, waves of pleasure coursing though him, igniting a burning flame of desire he had never before felt, had not even imagined he could feel. The ecstatic sensations prompted Harry to grip Severus even tighter, pulling him even closer. His hands soon found their way into those silken locks of black hair, his fingers eagerly twisting around the soft, fragrant strands.

_Mmmm... yes… his hair IS soft… so soft..._

A low, growl-like moan issued from deep in Severus' throat. The guttural sound vibrated against Harry's wet lips just as he pulled away from their heated kiss to catch his breath.

_Wait… What was that? Did he… did he just make a noise? Did he just use his voice?!_

"Severus! Your voice! What...?" Harry stared at Severus, watching with increasing astonishment as those lips stretched into a nervous grin.

Severus' hands loosened their tight grip on the sides of his face, but they remained there, holding him tenderly then drawing him closer. When his lips were just an inch from Harry's, he spoke.

"Harry… I love you, too… with all my heart."

"Oh my God… Oh, Severus!"

The kiss that followed was slower and sweeter than the one that preceded it. Each unhurried brush of Severus' lips against his own sent Harry soaring, every slow, deliberate caress filling him with overwhelming emotion. Each warm, needy breath seemed to deepen this exquisite, beautiful feeling taking over his heart.

Never before had Harry felt so cared for, so trusted, so wanted… so loved.

When their slow, passionate kiss ended and at last they pulled apart, Harry couldn't help but ask the question that was burning in his mind.

"Severus, your voice... how? When?"

Severus smiled, then lowered his gaze to the potion he'd given Harry, dark eyes lingering there for just a moment before lifting to meet those shimmering green orbs. There was a knowing glint of wisdom radiating from those obsidian depths now, one that spoke of deep enlightenment and understanding.

"The Lingua Remotionem Potion requires three spells to be cast during the first brewing stage," Severus explained. "Spells that must be cast verbally."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the last few words, understanding coming to him.

"I brewed another potion to restore my voice so that I would be able to properly brew your potion," Severus finished.

"You did it for me," Harry whispered, his throat suddenly tight, constricted by a strong surge of emotion. He realized Severus must have found the same potion he and Hermione had, the one utilizing Chimera blood. He would have to ask Severus where he had found that rare substance, but for now...

"You healed the damage to your vocal chords... even though you thought I wouldn't want to hear your voice again," Harry could barely choke the words past his tight throat. "But you did it anyway... for me."

Severus nodded, then lifted his hand to Harry's face, placing it gently on his cheek. His fingertips slid in between strands of raven hair as his thumb swept across one cheek, wiping away a lone, wayward tear from the warm skin. Drawing nearer, he pressed his lips to Harry's again, placing a tender kiss there.

"Yes, Harry, and you cast a Dark spell using Parseltongue, despite your hatred for it, so that you could brew this elixir for me."

Harry tore his gaze away from Severus, settling it instead on the two potion vials lying forgotten in their gift boxes. The idea that they were both now utterly worthless crossed his mind at the same instant he heard a chuckle. Severus had come to the same conclusion he had.

"What should we do with them?" Severus asked after a moment.

"Let's just… put them away… keep them for a while," Harry suggested, his eyes returning to Severus' once more. "After all, they're a bit too nice to use at present… don't you think?"

Harry's playful grin was mirrored by a mischievous one on Severus' face. In one swift move, Severus grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled him back into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss just below his ear as he whispered, "Don't even _think_ about asking me to cook you chops, Harry!"

The room was filled with their avid laughter. Harry reveled in the sound of _both_ their voices, resonating loudly, permeating the space with joy and exuberance, celebrating the fact that their love for each other was now known and returned. When their spirited laughter diminished, Harry once again placed a loving kiss to Severus' smirking lips.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," he whispered, his lips still pressed against those of the man he loved.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

Though the words were spoken in barely more than a whisper, Harry relished their dark, silky tone. And as that rich baritone timbre flitted across his lips, suffusing his mind and heart and spirit with warmth, the true significance behind this precious gift became clear to him at last...

Their gifts to each other may have started out as meaningful vocal benefactions, but built upon the strong foundation of friendship and respect over the past six years, they had evolved into offerings of trust, faith, sacrifice and love.

_Especially_ love.

Yes, Harry thought as he snuggled closer into Severus' tight embrace, this truly would be a Happy Christmas.

**The End**

**A/N: **I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed this Christmas story. As I noted in the beginning of the first chapter, it was inspired by a lovely tale called 'The Gift of the Magi' by O. Henry. If you have never read it, I highly recommend that you do so. Incidentally, if you _have_ read 'The Gift of the Magi', Severus' line about_ cooking chops_ will make a lot more sense to you, as will Harry's preceding comments about their gifts. Those remarks allude to a moment near the end that story.

As always, I ask that you please review. This is my first attempt at a short story, and I would love some feedback. In addition, I would like to know if you would enjoy a sequel to this story – perhaps one that picks up where this one leaves off, a narration of their first time together. It would be rated M, of course. ;-)

Happy Holidays, everybody! :D

**Please Review.**


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